


Mary Sanchez's Birth

by berlitzschen



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Rick loves Morty so fucking much, medical bullshit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 21:03:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11699862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlitzschen/pseuds/berlitzschen
Summary: Not much is known about Mary Sanchez’s conception. It was a strange and unexpected occurrence. No one knew how it happened. Much of her life would become a mystery—a legend, even, amongst the stars and the realities. But one thing was for certain.Her fathers loved her.





	Mary Sanchez's Birth

Not much is known about Mary Sanchez’s conception. It was a strange and unexpected occurrence. No one knew how it happened. Much of her life would become a mystery—a legend, even, amongst the stars and the realities. But one thing was for certain.

Her fathers loved her.  


* * *

 

 

"Oh jeez, Rick, h–h–how did this even happen?" Morty paced back and forth in the garage.

"C–c–c-calm down, Morty." Rick huffed, grabbing his grandson by the wrists and holding them firmly. "You–You–You're making me nervous. And stress isn't good for babies—."

"Oh God, Rick!" Morty shrieked so hard Rick flinched back and let go of him.

"Jesus Christ, Morty!" Rick yelled.

Morty didn't care. His mind was running too fast with all the things he was worried about. "There–there–there's a baby inside me, Rick. A–An actual baby. A human being, Rick. A t–tiny person."

"Yeah, Morty, thanks, I only had one of them myself and—"

"Yeah, y-you had one, but you didn't conceive one in your own body, Rick!" Morty shouted.

"And if you'd ever let me finish, Morty, you would know that there's at least seven different possible explanations for why you're pregnant. But n–n–none of them matter, Morty, and you know why? Because you're pregnant, only idiots get hung up on the explanations. It doesn't matter. What matters, babe, is what you wanna do about it. And judging by your last experience with child rearing, I'm gonna guess you're gonna say . . ?" Rick trailed off intentionally, eager to hear Morty's answer, but not willing to show that. Honestly whatever happened, he would be with Morty. He would support him. This decision was far more important to Morty and his sensitive nature than it was to Rick. Kill it, adopt it, raise it, whatever, Rick was game. The only thing that bothered him was the possibility of the family pressuring him one way or another. He wouldn't stand for that, and he was also pretty certain he knew what Morty would want to do. Morty was always sentimental and responsible, but to Rick, all that mattered in this moment was what Morty wanted to do.

"We–we–we're keeping the baby, Rick." Morty decided.

Yep. There is was. Rick's mind was already working a thousand times a minute to figure out how the next nine months would play out. He'd have to get Morty examined off-plant. Earth doctors were idiots and would probably make a spectacle out of him. He'd already stopped going to school so that wasn't an issue. The family would be interesting, though. But it shouldn't be too terrible, since they'd already known about their relationship. It had been rough for a bit after they found out but it made everything easier in the end. He wondered when Morty would start showing, and what sort of pregnancy clothes he would need to get him. He'd either have to hold off adventures when Morty got pretty far along, or he'd have to find some other way to conduct his errands without Morty's camouflage—

"—Rick!" Suddenly Morty was right in front of Rick, staring up at him confusedly.

"W–whAt, Morty?" Rick burped.

"Y–Y–You just stared off into space a–and didn't say anything." Morty looked more nervous, like he was going to shrink in on himself. It occurred to Rick that he actually hadn't responded to him yet, and that the little dummy was probably tearing himself apart thinking about what Rick would say.

"Y–Yeah, Morty, I was just thinking about all the shit I gotta do now for your pregnant ass and the kid we're having." Rick tried to phrase and speak callously but his affection edged in traitorously.  

Morty's breath hitched and suddenly he launched into Rick's arms. "R–R–Really, Rick?"

"Duh-doi." Rick tried to hide his smile in Morty's neck by failed miserably. He gently pulled out of Morty's embrace, however he couldn't resist keeping his hands on Morty's waist and squeezing gently. "F–first things first, we gotta get a doctor to look over you."

"Oh jeez, Rick. D–Do we have to?" Morty fidgeted and looked uncomfortable. "C–Can't you just do it?"  

Rick took his hands from Morty's waist and cupped his face with them instead. "I may be a genius," he spoke, voice soft enough to wrap you up in and keep you warm. "B–But I don't have an ultrasound nor any actual 'professional' qualifications to figure out what's what with your body an–an–an–and I'm not willing to just bullshit my way through your pregnancy, Morty. We're–we're–we're working with a lot of unknowns here, th–things even the Interdimensional eHow can't teach me about. T–There's a reason there's whole specialities related to child care and development and shit, Morty, it's cause it's important not to fuck it up. B–besides, I'll be there with you–there the whole way, Morty, you don't have anything to worry about anything, babe."

Though at the moment Rick loathed his lacking skill set in this department, he was being honest. He couldn't chance something as important as this. He didn't hold a doctorate in any field, much less medicine. Though they could probably get around extended hospital stays by Rick doing most of the stuff from home. IV drips and morphine and whatever else they might need a nurse for, Rick could handle himself. But if there were complications during labor—what Morty's labor would even look like—Rick didn't know.

"Y–You mean it?" Morty let a tentative smile light up his eyes.

"Of course." Rick kissed Morty on the lips before getting up and slugging an arm around him as he punched in the coordinates. A green portal swirled in front of them and Rick lead the way, keeping one hand on Morty the whole time.

 

* * *

 

 

Morty was only five weeks into his pregnancy so when they arrived in the alien hospital, the very same one they took Jerry to, there wasn't much the doctors could do but tell them what they already knew. They did tell them what to expect from his pregnancy, though.

Some of the usual stuff: swollen ankles, cravings, morning sickness—which was actually the thing that made them figure out Morty was pregnant in the first place. The first day it happened, Morty had just brushed it off as something gross he ate. But when it returned the next day, and then the day after that, Morty hobbled into the garage and told Rick there was something wrong with him.

Initially, Rick rolled his eyes, but that was before he turned and saw how flushed and unsteady Morty was. In an instant his mind ran through all the strange places they've been to in the last week, any aliens with diseases Morty might've caught, any plants he might've foolishly touched. He crossed the room in few hurried strides and kneeled down to Morty's level. He wasn't feverish, but he looked woozy. Sweat clung his brow and he held his stomach, face screwed in a pained expression that made Rick suddenly wish his focus was medical science.

He gathered Morty into his arms, despite knowing full-well that his grandson could walk. But Rick didn't care. He was feeling indulgent and rather protective. Though he wouldn't voice it, Morty knew.

He knew Rick better than anyone else. As his grandfather carried him down the stairs to the subterranean lair, he chose not to resist. He could've insisted he walked on his own but at this point, Morty felt so ill he couldn't be bothered. And the way that Rick held him with one arm and descended the latter with the other, like Morty didn't weigh a hundred and thirty pounds, like caring for him was the most natural thing in the world for Rick.

Weaving his arms around Rick's shoulders, Morty allowed himself to be carried like a child. He pressed his face into Rick's chest, inhaling all that he was, letting the comforting scent seep into him like an anesthetic.

Rick placed him on a table, kissed him on the forehead, paused, then kissed him four more times. Once on the nose, once on either cheek, and a final chaste kiss on the lips. Morty smiled but he was so tired it played out like a grimace.

He relaxed under Rick's examinations none-the-less. His grandfather drew vial after vial of blood and ran test after test. Each negative result sunk Rick's stomach more as he got further and further away from an answer to Morty's sickness. Over an hour of failed tasted had elapsed and although his stomach had quelled itself, Morty knew their problems weren't over. The reoccurrence of the vomiting for the past three mornings meant there was something awry, so Morty tolerated every pin prick and mouth swab and hair pluck, knowing Rick wouldn't be done until he knew exactly what was making him ill.

It had taken Rick a long time. He had to start trying shit that was so far out of the meeseeks box it might as well had been in another dimension. By the third hour his stomach had knotted itself so tight he wondered it hadn't torn apart. But then he found it.

He tossed a strand of Morty's hair into a clear mixture and almost shit himself when the fluid fizzed and turned purple.

"Holy fuck, Morty," Rick had said. "You're fucking pregnant, dawg!"

And not two weeks later they were in an alien hospital, and a creature with sixteen eyes, three tongues, and one leg examined Morty. The usual stuff, he assured, just checking blood pressure and heart rate. They couldn't do much since the baby was hardly developed, but they did tell Morty he could expect to show around twelve to sixteen weeks, but it was probably much closer to twelve since he was so young and considerably small.

The alien physician asked Morty if he had any questions and the boy almost broke. They hadn't let Rick come in with him, insisting he had to wait in the lobby when they examined Morty. Different standards of procedure and statutes on what qualifies as privacy.

Although it could've had more to do with the way Rick was clearly intoxicated, slurring as he shouted at nurses, demanding someone get his precious pregnant grandson a doctor. He knocked over a tray of used surgical equipment on its way to the biohazard disposal in his stumbling, tugging Morty along with him, but shielding him every time an alien ambled into his orbit. Maybe they thought Rick was an abuser with the way he hauled Morty around like a ragdoll. But it wasn't that at all. Rick needed to have physical contact with Morty.

And Morty needed Rick more than ever. The physician was clinical and cold and practiced and everything that wasn't Rick. Rick gave him kisses and tender embraces and this physician only stared blankly at him and asked him questions in a flat tone. Rick said he would be with him the whole way and where was he? Sitting on his ass in the lobby, probably hollering at some poor nurses.

He just started crying. The physician clamored out of the room and returned with Rick.

“—your mate is in distress. I’m afraid I don’t know how to placate a human—” the physician explained.

Rick ignored him and squished himself into the same seat Morty occupied. Wrapping his arms around Morty, he held him until his hiccups and sobs subsided. He gently nuzzled into his ear and whispered to his grandson:

“W-w-what’s got you so worked up, baby? Hmm?” While Rick waited for him to respond, he placed gentle kisses along the top of Morty’s head.

“W-w-w-what if I—” a little hiccup interrupted him, “w-w-w-what if I d-die? W-w-w-what if there’s som-something wrong with the baby? Is it going to hurt? W-w-what are Mom and Dad going to say? Oh, God—” Again, Morty’s speech devolved into sharp intakes of air that made his entire chest heave.

Suddenly Rick tightened his embrace  and pulled Morty until he was basically in his lap.

“I know it’s overwhelming, baby. But you can do it. You’ll have me. Remember: Rick and Morty forever and ever, a hundred years? I’m sorry, baby. I should’ve-should’ve come back with you. Shouldn’t’ve let them stop me. You make me so crazy sometimes. I-I kind of lost it back there—was just worried about you. Y-y-you’re my baby boy.” Rick stole a kiss and smiled at the bubbling laugh he managed to coax out of Morty. His eyes were red but at least he stopped crying.

The physician sat down and explained what Morty could expect out of the next eight or so months. He also added a note to the files containing information on humans that instructed other staff members not to separate mates from one another.

Morty leaned against Rick while he listened. Crying had exhausted him. What he really wanted to do was go back home and sleep. Get nestled on the couch with Rick, a blanket wrapped around the two of them as they drifted off to reruns of Ball Fondlers.

He wound up falling asleep in Rick’s arms. When he awoke, he found himself facing a wall, and his cheek pressed into his bedsheets, and his grandfather coiled around him. He fell back asleep, warm all over, skin exuding contentment.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks elapsed and Morty now took a pill each day that Rick made for him to alleviate the symptoms of his morning sickness. But that wasn't the only thing that changed.

Mostly, Rick did.

In a word, he had become ‘fussy’.

They went on adventures still, and though there were plenty of times when Rick grabbed Morty by the shirt, wrist, or even went hand in hand with him, it was usually to make sure he didn't fall behind while they were fleeing.

But now Rick kept a hand on the small of his back as much as he could. When they sat in alien diners, instead of sitting across from him, Rick slipped into the booth beside Morty and rested his arm behind him.

Rick didn't say anything to explain himself and Morty was smart enough not to ask. He had already figured it out.

And when they walked places Rick always looked like he was torn between walking in front of Morty to make sure there wasn't any danger up ahead, or keeping behind him to block any sneak attacks.

It was even worse when they went to the citadel. On alien planets, yeah, a hand gently resting on his back was just a thing. Alien species couldn't be bothered to even care enough about another alien species and what they were doing. But when in the citadel, it was nothing but Ricks and Mortys, and they all knew what it meant—maybe not the _pregnant_ part—and they also always _watched_. It made Morty nervous, which made Rick even more protective.

He didn't know if it was the hormones from his pregnancy making everything more noticeable, but it seemed terror dripped off of him like a sopping rat. Happiness made him radiant, whereas before it was a dull glow. And everything made him cry. His emotions came full-force constantly and so did his nervousness and his need for affection.

Which is why he keened whenever Rick grabbed his waist and pulled him tight against his chest if another Rick looked at him. They sat with the Council on their most recent trip and Rick pulled Morty into his lap and wrapped  him in his arms throughout the entire two-hour-long meeting. It was mostly boring, and the Ricks threw words around Morty didn't comprehend, so he just nuzzled into Rick's neck and dozed off to sleep.

He thought he heard one of the Council Ricks comment: ‘your Morty is so pliant, eh, C-137?’. Morty could hear the smirk in his voice and he let out a little noise before his Rick even had a chance to respond. He twisted his hands in Rick’s sweater. It was a gesture Rick understood from his Morty well.

Rick glared at them and tightened his hold. Morty hummed appreciatively and pulled his head up, offering his parted lips. Rick seemed hungry.

With a low growl Rick captured Morty’s lips and drew out little gasps from the boy gently thrusting in his lap. Moving down Morty’s throat, Rick sunk his teeth into the junction just below the dip in the shirt, making sure every Rick in the room was watching. Licking the blood he pried from the skin, Rick returned and gave one last chaste kiss to his precious baby boy. Morty seemed satisfied with that and tucked himself back into Rick’s hold. He fell asleep again with warm hands carding through his hair and when we woke up they were in the ship and heading back to earth.

When they landed, Morty moved slowly, unbuckling his seatbelt and stretching out his limbs. His hand grasped empty space where the door handle should have been and Rick was standing there, arms open, waving his hands in anticipation.

Morty fondly rolled his eyes but nevertheless allowed himself to be carried bridal-style up the stairs and into Rick's room, which had since become their room. It was a tight fit but they made it work, usually by Rick on his back with Morty draped across his chest.

Rick kissed the top of Morty’s head and mumbled a: “good night”. His dreams were blissful and warm, and he couldn't imagine falling asleep in the arms of any other man.

 

* * *

 

 

At six weeks, completely out of the blue, Rick paused in his crafting and turned to Morty. Running the back of his neck, he asked Morty to hop down from the table. Morty cocked his head to the side but complied. Standing in front of Rick, who he didn't think he’d ever seen so nervous, Morty gave him a sweet, encouraging smile. It out Rick at ease, though only slightly.

After a minute of silence, Morty frowned.

“What is it, Rick?” Morty twisted his hands into the hem of his shirt.

Rick groaned and spoke, stutter far worse than normal: “L–L–L–Look, Morty, I–I–I–I know you might not think I care about this shit—a–a–and to an extent I don't—I’ve already done this once and so I'm not—I understand if _you_ want to, w–w–which is why I'm asking but—fuck, Morty.” Rick held his hands and sunk to his knees before the boy. “W–W–What I'm trying to say, baby, i–i–i–is that I love you and, w–well, I h–h–have a document here that makes us uh, m–married, o–o–only by intergalactic standards, n–not by earth standards but—”

Tears welling in his eyes, Morty flung his arms around his grandfather’s neck and squealed: “yes, yes! I wanna marry you!” Morty laid a series of sloppy, over-excited kisses upon his grandfather’s lips and bounced up and down.

Rick smiled so hard it actually kind of hurt. Hoisting his grandson into the air he squeezed him and peppered kisses all along his face and head. Morty wrapped his legs around his grandfather and Rick hefted all of Morty’s weight to one arm and cupped his cheek with the other hand.

“I love you so much, baby,” Rick kissed him once on the nose then continued, “you know that, right? All my life, I want to give it to you. Every day I have left I-I-I want to spend with you.”

Morty sobbed happily and Rick wiped away his tears. “I love you too, Rick. I—Rick, I-I want to—c-can I have your l-last name?”

Rick laughed brokenly and nodded. “Yes, Morty, yes, yes, a hundred—a thousand _fucking_ times _yes_!”

Rick pulled away and grabbed Morty the alien documents that bound the two of them together. All Morty had to do was sign his new name. Rick promised him they could go down to the county tomorrow morning and apply for a name change and pay a small few. They’d have to wait two months, and they’d need a second witness, but legally there was no reason why the boy couldn’t just change his surname.

After Morty signed Rick bent down and kissed him hard. Morty bucked against his grandfather and an hour later they were sated, sleepy, and cleaning up in the shower. Rick toweled off Morty’s dripping curls and nipped at his throat, convincing him not to cover his freshly marked body in clothes. Instead Rick wrapped him in his labcoat and they snuck into their bedroom.

Morty passed out with Rick tracing nonsense patterns over his naked backside.

When he woke up, he was alone in the bed, but the sound of arguing from the kitchen told Morty exactly what Rick was up to.

Shucking on a pair of sweats and one of Rick’s old t-shirts, Morty ambled out of the bedroom. As he approached Rick and wrapped his arms around his midsection, he ignored the complaints coming from his father on the other side of the counter.

Rick told Jerry to fuck off and twined his hands with Morty’s for a brief moment.

“I have to get back to cooking breakfast, baby. It’s almost ready. Why don’t you go sit on the couch and watch some TV while you wait?”

Morty hummed and lightly tugged Rick down and kissed his cheek. Jerry grimaced and huffed but didn’t say anything as Morty slipped past him and entered the living room.

“You’re still here, Jerry? I told you to fuck off,” Rick said, not even looking at him, “stress isn’t good the baby.” Rick realized his mistake immediately.

Over at the breakfast table, forced to eat cereal this morning since Rick had taken over, Beth and Summer turned and frowned.

“‘The baby’?” Beth asked, sipping her coffee.

Rick sharply turned and flipped the bacon over, not letting it get too crispy. Neither he or Morty liked that crunchy bullshit burned bacon. Only flimsy, floppy bacon for them.

“Y-Y-Yeah, the baby—my baby, Morty. H-H-He’s got anxiety. A-A-A-All your yelling probably woke him up a-a-and you’re always bitching, Jerry. P-Probably making him not sleep very good at night. T-That’s why he’s tired all the time.” Rick hoped they would be stupid enough and let it go.

Summer smirked, “you mean you fucking him every night isn’t the reason he’s not getting enough sleep? ‘Oh, Rick, harder, fuck me harder, just like that, ooooooh, i’m gonna cum granddaddy,’.”

Beth inhaled her coffee and coughed. Jerry looked disgusted and the whole scene made Summer roar in laughter.

“Seriously, grandpa, you guys aren’t too quiet. We’ve had to go on ‘emergency drives’ three times this week just to escape the sound of you two boning.”

Rick didn’t respond and hefted sunny-side up eggs, a half a dozen strips of bacon, two slices of toast, a freshly peeled orange onto a plate and poured a tall glass of milk.

Summer raised her eyebrow. “Morty can’t possibly eat all that, unless—holy shit! You said, ‘the baby’. Does Morty have another alien baby?” Summer screamed.

Rick dropped the fork onto the plate and cringed at the noise. He cursed and Summer leapt from her chair.

“Oh, my God,” she shook her mom, who until this point had been frozen, “you guys are totally having a baby, aren’t you? Holy fuck, I’m going to be an aunt, but also like, I’m gonna have another aunt or uncle? That’s so weird, oh my God, someone should try drawing out our family tree sometime. It’s totally fucked. Mom! You’re gonna have a half-sibling!”

At that Beth’s eye twitched. Jerry looked like he was about to fall over.

Morty came out of the living room all eyes turned to him. He smiled and placed a hand on his stomach, and gaze lovingly at Rick and Summer jumped up and down.

“This is so awesome. We can have a baby shower and everything. Oooh, and Morty, we should go shopping for maternity clothes.” Summer looked at her phone. “Fuck, I gotta go, but we’re totally doing that, you guys. This is the coolest thing to happen since that time those Rashkaziis nested under the house.” Summer gave her brother a hug and left.

Rick tucked Morty into his side and eyed his daughter and son-in-law, daring them.

Beth was obviously disturbed but she smiled. Jerry crossed his arms and waved them out, grumbling about science bullshit doing God-knows-what to his son.

Satisfied, Rick led Morty back into the living room. He placed Morty in between his legs and carefully fed him while Gazorpazorpfield played softly in the background.

**Author's Note:**

> Just an excuse for some fluff and affectionate and protective Rick.


End file.
